


Nineteen years later

by BethRG



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 18:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethRG/pseuds/BethRG
Summary: A war changes people in ways inimaginable. Harry Potter reflect on his life and choices, 19 years later. My take on how the epilogue should have ended.





	Nineteen years later

**Author's Note:**

> How it should have ended.
> 
> Everyone that had met me or read me knows I am a big fan of open endings. Before HP and the Deathly Hallows came out, that's what I was hoping for. The book without that epilogue would have been perfect.
> 
> But the epilogue it's just the biggest example of trying to appease the audience disregarding everything that might come after a war like that.
> 
> I love pairings as much as anyone because I think they give us an opportunity to explore other sides of a character that might not be obvious in the narrative. But life has so many turns, that I find too Disney to create an epilogue with those pairings.
> 
> So I decided to write this. There are no pairings, no jobs. Just Harry and his life, his reflections. You can imagine he is married to Luna, Ginny, Hermione or Draco for all I care. He can be an auror, a healer, or a coffee owner. Create your own story around this Harry.

**Nineteen years later.**

That 1st of September found Harry in his kitchen as per usual. A steaming mug of coffee was in his hand, as he disinterestedly flipped through the pages of the newspaper. He could hear the noises from upstairs, the rattle of books and trolleys and trucks being carried across the floor. A smile tugged his lips, the excitement of a new school year evident in the house.

He sighed and reclined in his chair, closing his eyes.

There were dates that were ingrained in him as days of reflection. There were days of sad reflection, as Halloween or the 2ndof May. There were others that were joyful, as Christmas. Today was a sort of content reflection, that of a man who has achieved a level of deeper understanding of life and has lived in consequence and was grateful for it.

A lot of things – and people- changed after the war. Some others stayed blissfully the same. He had had disappointments, ups and downs, happy times. He had cried and laughed and scream and argue. This came as a surprise, as life was supposed to be great and perfect after Voldemort dismissal. It took him a while to understand that life was life after all and packed with moments that did not fit into the overall scheme of things he had planned. He remembered one song Hermione used to listen.

"There will be days like this my mama said"

Luckily, not that many. Far in between, he could get melancholic. Nightmares would return, and he would need to have a small glass of whiskey to temple his nerves. Maybe even a dreamless potion. But he had made peace with him needing this.

No one that had gone through what he had gone through would be mentally stable after. Merlin, it was almost a miracle he came on the other end as he did.

In the end, he could definitely say he had everything he had always wanted. A modest house in the suburbs of London that had been turned into a home thanks to love and dedication. A family built on love and trust. A job he enjoyed. Friends he could turn to if needed. Still, he did not have the dreading feeling of being in a settled path as he had as a teenager, but in a pleasant boat that swung in the middle of a waveless sea.

A loud bang of a trunk being carried down the stairs made him focus in the here and now. Looking at the clock, he got up and called everyone to hurry up before they lose the train. He went to the foyer and started to put his coat on. He looked himself in the mirror, and his green eyes immediately when to his scar, now hidden by some stray hairs that were starting to grey. He pushed his fringe up, as he did all those years back to show Ron the raw skin on his forehead.

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.


End file.
